We've Gotta Be Practical About This
by you-idjits
Summary: "He doesn't mind being dropped off in Arizona, if it means Dean and Castiel can finally resolve the tension. Dean's needed a good lay for some time. Sam just wants his brother to be happy." Castiel keeps dumping Sam in the middle of nowhere so he and Dean can fuck. Sam's perspective on Dean and Cas, a little annoyed, a little amused. A soft sequel to Gravity. T for sexual themes.


**A/N: A soft sequel to my other story, Gravity. You don't need to read it to read this one, but the basic premise is: Castiel transports Sam to Arizona so he can confess his undying love to Dean, fluff ensues. Can be read here: s/9409305/1/Gravity**

The first time it happens, Sam accepts it. Actually, he's kind of glad they finally talked it out. While he's confused at first as to why he's gone from a hotel in Nebraska to a desert in Arizona in the blink of an eye, eventually he concludes that it's Castiel's doing. He hikes around for a bit, but there are no signs of civilization, and Sam has to give up and settle down in the sand.

He loses track of time. It feels like a few hours, plenty of time for Sam to consider the options. Maybe they had a huge fight and Castiel stormed off somewhere, forgetting about Sam and Arizona. Maybe Castiel's dead or injured, and unable to retrieve Sam. But why would he send Sam all the way to Arizona if he was hurt? Sam could _help_.

After several hours of _trying really hard not to think about it_, he decides they're probably having wild sex. He's known for ages that those two are crazy for each other, and while Sam never pegged Dean as being into men, Cas is different. Dean looks at Castiel like he's, well, an angel. Sam's known all along that they belong together.

He doesn't mind being dropped off in Arizona, if it means Dean and Castiel can finally resolve the tension. Dean's needed a good lay for some time. Sam just wants his brother to be happy.

Besides, he finally concludes, it's better than being back in the motel. He'd have to get another room, and those motel walls are _thin_.

Some time later, Sam hears the flapping of wings behind him. Finally.

He turns reluctantly, unsure of what to expect. Castiel stands alone, for once devoid of his trench coat, tie looser than usual. His hair looks like… ugh, sex hair. Sam _really_ doesn't want to think too much about that.

"My apologies," Castiel says, and his voice is rougher than usual too. "I did not intend to-"

"Dude, I _don't_ want to hear about it," Sam cuts him off.

Castiel steadfastly avoids his eyes. Apparently, angels can blush. "I will return you to Dean now."

"Are you sure? Is he clothed? Because I don't want to-"

Cas grabs his arm a little rougher than necessary and jerks him back to Nebraska.

Thankfully, Dean is dressed, but he has difficulty meeting Sam's eyes as well. They don't talk about it.

But the next time it happens, okay, Sam's a little pissed. He was in the middle of some intense research, when _bam!_ Suddenly he's in an evergreen forest God-knows-where. In nothing but his t-shirt and jeans, Sam shivers in the night air.

"You could have at least brought me a jacket," Sam mutters to the empty forest. He starts walking, looking for a path, anything. No luck.

This time, it's only an hour before Castiel appears at his side.

The third time, it's seven hours, and Sam is unarmed. Though he can handle himself, he doesn't like going anywhere without a gun. Now this charade is getting old.

When Castiel picks him up, Sam addresses both his brother and the angel. "Okay, wait. We've gotta set some ground rules for this."

Dean moves across the room, avoiding Sam's angry gaze. "We're not talking about this, Sammy."

"Yeah, we are. Because I am sick and tired of being dumped in an empty forest. I didn't even have my _gun_, Dean. What if there had been a wendigo in that forest, huh? All I'm saying is we've gotta be practical about this."

Dean looks more embarrassed than Sam's ever seen him. "So you don't – you don't mind?"

"No, I don't mind. You guys can have all the awesome sex you want. Frankly, I'd rather be across the country than next door when you two are going at it. I just want to set up some rules. Like, I need a jacket. You left me in the cold in short sleeves last time, Cas."

Castiel blinks. "I'm sorry. I'd forgotten that weather was an issue."

"Yeah. Just because you don't get bored, just because you don't feel cold, doesn't mean you can leave me wherever the hell you want. From now on, you'll come in politely and give me some _warning_ before you drop me across the country."

Dean shakes his head. "Dude, that's not gonna work. It's not like Cas can just pop in and say, 'Hey, I want to fuck your brother. Can you clear out for a few hours?"

Unfortunately, that's exactly what Castiel says the next time.

"I'd like to engage in sexual intercourse with Dean," he says, appearing at the foot of Sam's bed. "I was asked to give forewarning. Collect your things?"

Sam scrambles to his feet, grabs his jacket and a gun, and disappears. He does _not_ want to be there when they start taking off their clothes.

This time, Castiel sends Sam to the side of a road, high in the mountains. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets and starts walking. At least this is progress – Sam's somewhere near civilization.

A few cars pass before one finally slows down.

"Hey kid, you need a ride?" asks the man, leaning across the bench seat of an eighteen-wheel truck.

Sam looks up. "Oh, um, yeah. That would be great." He climbs up into the truck.

"Where to?" the trucker asks, pulling back onto the road.

"Uh, where are we headed?" He laughs softly. "Anywhere with a bar would be great."

The man nods knowingly. "One of those days, huh? We're just outside of Alma."

"Alma, as in…"

"Alma, Colorado. You must be really lost. What's your name?"

"Sam," he says, extending a hand sideways.

"My name's Dylan. Rick Dylan." Dylan takes a hand off the wheel to shake Sam's. "You got any money? A place to stay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." It hasn't happened so far, but it occurs to Sam that one of these days Castiel will leave him somewhere overnight. He'd better start bringing money, too.

He's quickly getting sick of these late night excursions. Dean and Cas need to slow down.

"You sure?" Dylan glances over at him, then back to the road.

"I've got a, uh, friend picking me up soon. He'll know where to find me."

Dylan doesn't look satisfied with the answer, but he doesn't push it. Sam thanks him for the ride and politely rejects the offered twenty bucks. After fifteen minutes, he gets out of the truck in Alma, Colorado. An hour later, Castiel arrives and takes him back home.

Sam gets by for a few weeks, depending on the kindness of strangers like Dylan. Some nights he's left in a forest or a desert or a field. Other nights he ends up in a city. Of course, some nights Castiel doesn't come at all. Sam still sees plenty of his brother. They fight demons and monsters together, they order cheap takeout and they sleep on shitty motel beds. Things aren't that different, now that Dean and Castiel are together.

Some nights Dean coughs embarrassedly and asks Sam if he wouldn't mind clearing out for a few hours. Other nights, Castiel shows up with dark eyes, unable to even form coherent thoughts. He starts putting his hands on Dean before Sam's even out of the room.

The nice thing about this arrangement is that Sam never has to walk in on Dean and Cas. The unfortunate thing is that now he's aware of _every single time_ Dean and Cas want to have sex. And they have the libidos of horny teenagers.

On one particular night, Castiel appears out of nowhere, barely giving Sam time to grab a coat, and then drops him in a town in Oregon without a word. Sam heads for the nearest bar. He'll be here a while.

The bartender is sympathetic, offering him free refills on his drink because it's late and the bar is mostly empty.

"I've gotta lock up," she says around two in the morning. "Do you have somewhere to go?"

He shakes his head and downs another shot. "Nope. Definitely not."

Something like pity shines in her eyes and oh, he didn't mean it that way. He's not homeless. He just really, really doesn't want to go back to Montana, where Dean and Cas are…

She settles down on the barstool next to him. "That's okay, I can stick around for a while. What's your name?"

"Sam." He glances down at her nametag, which reads _Tiffany_. She's nice, pretty. Huh. If Dean's getting laid, why shouldn't Sam too?

"So why are you drinking alone on a Wednesday night?" she asks, leaning against the counter. Manicured nails drum on the wood.

He plans to lie, but he's drunk, and what comes out is, "My brother is fucking his angelic boyfriend in a motel in Montana and I have to wait here."

She splutters and laughs and looks at him like he's crazy. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah. Castiel – he's the angel – zapped me here so I don't have to hear them making sex noises all night. Now I have to wait until he gets his feathery ass over here and picks me up."

"An angel. You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Hey, I wonder if Dean will go to Hell again for deflowering an angel. That's probably blasphemy, isn't it?" He takes a long drink. "Who cares? Cas will just raise him from perdition again. Fucking angels."

Tiffany gets up, laughing a little. "You are _very_ drunk, sir."

Sam laughs as well. She has a point. "Sorry. You must think I'm crazy. It's just… been a long week."

"You want to talk about it?" The real offer goes unsaid.

He looks up at her. She's pretty and blonde and he's drunk. "Yeah, yeah. I would like to talk about it."

But just Sam's luck, Castiel takes that moment to appear and zap him away. Their life has always been like that: Dean gets an angel, and Sam gets a desert in Arizona.


End file.
